WBY - Ring Work
by wildblueyonder6
Summary: John – The Stable Master, Dean – The Young Prince, Sam – The Youngest Prince - AU. A continuation of Locherby – Stable Master!verse Some folks asked and I thought I would try. Contains parental spanking. Don't read if it offends. Dean's difficult during a riding lesson with John. That is bad enough, but he takes it out on his horse. Never a wise choice with Stable Master, John .


Title: WBY – Ring Work

John – The Stable Master, Dean – The Young Prince, Sam – The Youngest Prince. A continuation of Locherby – Stable Master!verse Some folks asked and I thought I would try. Contains parental spanking. Don't read if you don't it offends.

XXX

John runs a hand through his hair. It's a sure sign he is getting frustrated. Getting frustrated when you are working with horses and boys he thinks, does little to solve anything.

Sam has just put his pony around a couple of twenty-meter circles. The pony is sweaty, the boy is too but John can see the kid's eyes light up with happiness at having been able to accomplish the task asked of him.

"Well done, Sam. Walk him a bit and then cool him down."

Sam nods brings his pony to a walk and then lets the pony have his head. The pony drops his head at the release of contact from his mouth with gentle tug and then stretches long and low.

John smiles. It's not part of the exercise but it is exactly how he would expect both Sam and Sage to react. "Okay you two, call it a day."

Sam halts the pony, jumps to the ground, runs his stirrups up and then leads Sage out of the ring. John had the ring built years ago. He finds it gives his students a little more courage to try new skills without having to worry about their mounts running away. They don't do ring work all the time, in fact, not often at all. Both Sam and Dean prefer working their horses in a field but they have resigned themselves to occasional ring work.

Today though, Sam has excelled. Dean on the other hand? John's eyes wander to Dean who is lackadaisically walking Gowan around the perimeter of the ring. The boy is irritated and has been since the moment he stepped into the saddle. He's been pushing John's buttons for the past hour and a half. John yells over his shoulder to Sam, "Make sure you cool him down well. That pony colics and I'll thrash you within an inch of your life."

He catches the small grin as Sam continues to walk the pony. While the threat is genuine, it's not needed. Sam would no more put Sage away wet than he would drive a nail through his own forehead.

John turns again to Dean. "Pick up the trot." It's an order short and sweet.

Dean glares at John. "How come Sam's done and I'm still working?"

"Because Sam is listening."

"He's doing baby work."

Dean continues to walk.

"Pick up the trot, Dean." John isn't sure if it is irritation he hears in his own voice or just tiredness. It has been a long lesson and Dean has been butting heads with him for most of it.

Dean reluctantly urges Gowan into a trot. The transition between walk and trot is sloppy. John breathes in deeply. You may loose the battle son, but win the war. It was his own father's favorite saying when it came to riding. John finds himself following his father's advice the older he gets.

"Okay," John allows, "Now back to the walk."

Dean sighs, John can hear it from the middle of the ring, but he does bring the gelding back to a walk. Gowan tosses his head at the added pressure on his mouth.

"Back to trot for six strides then transition to the walk again."

"Why?"

"Because apparently you can't figure out how to transition from a trot to a walk without snatching at your horse's mouth."

"This is boring."

"You're right. Even a toddler can make a nice transition from trot to walk. I have no idea what your problem is but if I don't see it effortless and correct, we will do it all night."

Dean groans and then easily brings Gowan up to a lovely swinging trot waits six strides and quietly transitions him to a walk.

John nods, "Well done. Why you couldn't do it before, I have no idea."

Dean turns to level a gaze at Sam, "Because I'm bored."

John has about had it with Prince Dean and his mouth.

"We've been through this before. Riding for a prince is riding for a king. You need to be able to do this without thinking. Now pick up the trot again and circle around me then spiral in. I want you to use as little rein as possible. "

Dean growls but picks up the trot. He does the required exercise, but it is clumsy and he leans on Gown's mouth so much that the gelding is switching his tail in irritation.

John knows how the gelding feels. If he'd had a tail he'd switch it too.

"Damn it, Dean! Back on the outside, do the same exercise but this time drop your reins."

"Drop my reins? Why would I want to ride with no reins?"

"Because I'm telling you too. You don't need them; use your legs and weight to ask Gowan for the bend and the circle. "

John can see by the set in Dean's shoulders that he is going to fight it.

"You can either drop the reins and do the exercise or I will tie your hands behind your back and you can do the exercise."

Dean halts the gelding and glares at John, "Just because I am to be king it doesn't mean that I must ride without reins!"

"Just do it. I can take away your stirrups too if you would like."

Dean does not like. He drops his reins and using just his legs he spirals Gowan in from the outside of the ring to a small circle around John in the middle. It isn't perfect, in fact, if John had any more energy to give or if he thought it wouldn't end in a screaming match he would make the boy do it again.

But Gowan is dripping wet with sweat and Dean is too. John is too, for that matter. Another word of wisdom from his father rambles through his head. Something about ending on a good note. John grimaces. The note might not be good but it is better. Besides, both horse and boy have had it.

"Fine. Take him back to the rail, let him relax twice around and then cool him down and call it a day."

Dean picks up the reins and if John didn't know any better he does it with a little more animation then necessary and walks Gowan back to the perimeter of the ring. Dean walks him around exactly twice and jumps off Gowan. With a sharp tug he pulls the gelding behind him.

John grabs him hard by the shoulder. "How would you like it, if I put a hunk of metal in your mouth and proceeded to drag you around by it as if you were nothing more a worthless tool."

Dean turns toward John. He can't do much else because John has moved him in that direction anyway.

"I'm not hurting him and I'm tired and he's slow."

"Tired?" John counters, "That horse is an old man compared to you, and he's worked just as hard as you have. You treat him with respect."

"He is mine. I will treat him as I want." Dean growls.

It is so unlike the boy that John actually loosens his hold on Dean's shoulder. Dean tears himself away and leads the horse toward the barn.

Dean may be difficult at times, but he's not often angry and mean. He's never cruel. Even just now with Gowan, its not really cruel just unnecessary. Gowan would probably follow Dean into the barn no matter what. But Dean is thirteen and stubborn. He's also been verbally smacked down for the past hour by John. That is as much Dean's attitude as it is John's inability to let a snot nosed boy ride poorly when he can do much better. John remembers how hard it is to listen to authority when you are thirteen. He knows that Dean would never really hurt Gowan and it's his pride and teenage angst that makes him rebel. He is also the prince and the same hotheaded blood of his father runs through his veins.

Anything that is within his power could quite possibly feel his wrath.

And it is that very thought that settles it for John. Dean may not have all the power at his disposal now and it might just be the rough treatment of an old horse but he will wield the power one day and how he chooses to use…or misuse it…will be based on the lessons he learns as a boy.

John follows Dean into the barn where the boy is unsaddling Gowan. Dean throws the saddle over a stall and takes off Gown's bridle and throws it on top of the saddle.

Gowan takes a step towards his stall, reaching for some tempting hay. "STAND." Dean growls and Gowan does but turns to look at Dean. Dean fumbles with a rope halter, dragging it over Gown's ears and pulling the old horse's head down. Suddenly Gowan has had enough, he shoves hard with his head and bumps Dean into a stall.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean reaches behind him and grabs a crop leaning up against the wall. He lifts it to swat Gowan across the hindquarters but the blow never comes. Instead John grabs Dean's arm once again, and pulls the boy over to a convenient bale of straw. He relieves Dean's hand of the crop and tosses the boy over his lap as he settles himself down on the straw. Then because he has a perfectly good crop in his hand he decides to use it on the squirming bottom over his lap.

He swats hard, not as hard as he might for an unruly horse, but hard enough to make Dean yell.

Dean's yell is particularly satisfying.

There is no one in the barn but Dean and John. Sam is still cooling his pony down but it is the very fact that Gowan needs to be cooled down that keeps the swatting session fast and furious. He doesn't want to keep Gowan waiting and puts a little effort into each spank. He finishes up quickly, stands and pulls Dean up with just as much speed.

"Now, go cool your horse down."

John pushes Dean in the direction of the horse and he goes willingly although he looks sore. Good, John thinks, Dean walks like a boy well spanked. John watches carefully as the boy takes the rope and leads the horse out of the barn for his cool down. John is still shaking a bit with the anger of almost watching Dean smack the old gelding for nothing more than a rough head butt. He takes a deep breath and centers himself.

If he had longer, he might have spanked the boy even more.

He would never trade his princes or his horses but sometimes together they make for a headache

XXX

John rubs his eyes tiredly; he's been working on the stables ledgers since he sent Dean out to cool off both himself and his horse. Accounting is his least favorite part of being Stable Master. Despite that - he is meticulous with his writing and figures and just like everything else he does, he does it with care.

He feels more than sees Dean at the doorway to the stable's office. He ignores him. The boy clears his throat. John doesn't look up from his books, "Yes, Dean." He finally acknowledges.

"Master John, " the boy says formally, "May I speak with you a moment."

"Yes, of course, " John puts down his quill pen, actually thankful for an excuse to have a break.

"Gowan is dry, and bedded down for the afternoon." The boy states as an opening line.

"Good to hear." John says a bit gruffly.

"I would like to apologize for my earlier behavior."

"And what behavior would that be?" John asks meeting his green-eyed prince squarely with his own brown ones.

"All of it. The lack of concentration while riding. The rudeness in which I spoke to you, the way I treated Gowan. It was all unacceptable."

John wants to smile a bit, but that is not what Dean needs. "Yes, it was." John agrees.

"I'm thankful to have a Stable Master and Instructor as…" Dean searches for a word, "as invested as you are in both myself and my brother."

"And I'm thankful for a Prince who takes my instruction to heart." John comments.

Dean smiles just a bit, "I sometimes think you don't give me much of a chance to do otherwise."

John grins too, "That would be extremely intuitive of you, My Lord."

Dean pulls himself up as straight as he can, "Will you walk with me?"

John nods and steps into the barn. He glances at the aisle way where Sam is playing with the newest litter of kittens.

"Sam, " John tousles the boy's head as he passes with Dean, "Your brother and I are going for a walk. I'm leaving Locherby's stables in your capable hands."

Sam grins and then grimaces as one of the kittens sink its tiny milk teeth into his hand. "I think I can handle it Master John. If there is anything left of me by the time these evil, if cute little guys finish with me."

They walk for a while side by side across the yard, then the field. John shortens his stride a bit so he and the boy walk side by side. There is companionable silence. John is patient, the boy will talk when he wants and the afternoon is lovely for a walk.

Dean sighs, "About today. I am truly sorry."

"I know. Your apology has already been accepted."

Dean nods impatiently, "I'm aware, but I just wanted you to know that…that I'm not really a bad person. I feel disgusted with myself. To think that I would lash Gowan simply because he was being a horse."

"And you, My Lord, were just being a boy."

"But I'm not just a boy, I'm the Prince and am to be King. I have responsibilities. I have honor. Today I was neither responsible nor honorable."

John waits to see if Dean has anything else to add. Apparently he doesn't.

"Well, it is good to know that you understand the concept. Many adults do not. What about me and the thrashing I gave you? How do you feel about that?"

"I feel like I do not want another. You Master John are handy with a crop."

John laughs then, "I've had plenty experience, My Lord." John takes another step or two as they walk into the woods. The sunlight dapples through the trees. It is cooler in the woods and it feels comfortable. He feels comfortable with his Prince, "I think, Dean, that there is a lesson to be learned here today. What do you think it is?"

"That I shall not be careless with my crop and that I will be considerate of my horse." It is said with a boy's conviction. And once again John laughs.

"Yes, Dean. That is part of the lesson but there is more. When you grow up and are King, you will be expected to rule with integrity and honor. You will be expected to moderate your people's feuds and disagreements. You will, at times, be expected to punish them as well. Punishment can be harsh but if it is tempered with fairness, it can be tolerated and learned from. Do you think today was harsh? Did you think it fair?"

Dean seems to think about the question carefully. "It was both. I'm quite certain there are welts on my arse. Tomorrow's lesson will be brutal and if I can find a way around it, I will surely try. However my Stable Master is a tough man and I doubt I will find tomorrow's hours in the saddle any less difficult then today's."

John's eyes dance merrily at the young man walking beside him. "You are probably right."

"And how do you feel about it and him?"

Dean is walking with his hands carefully folded behind his back. He is really trying to answer John correctly.

"That I am lucky to have a mentor who is willing to chastise me. Although, I must say, I wish he were less willing sometimes. The punishment itself?" The boy shrugs, "I wish it hadn't happened. As I said, my Stable Master is a harsh taskmaster. However, I think I will remember both it and the reason for my tender arse for quite a while."

John is secretly pleased. Dean can be hardheaded and difficult but he is trainable.

"You know, your father, and me too, found ourselves in more hot water more often than you can imagine. You are a lot like him when he was your age. Impulsive and at times explosive. He and I both spent a considerable amount of time nursing sore arses. I think it is part and parcel for a young man. There are stories I could tell but…I think some of them should wait until you are a bit older, and the ones I could share with you now? Well, they might give you too much food for thought."

Dean laughs then for the first time, "My father got in trouble?"

"Oh yes, and he didn't have a kindly Stable Master to help him right his ways. He had my father, the Wicked Stable Master and his father, The Wicked King. Your grandsire was far more temperamental than either your father or me. But, again, those are stories to be told another time."

John reaches over and places his arm over Dean's narrow shoulders. The boy is growing up; he will be broad of shoulder and lean of hip. He will be an imposing man and King to be reckoned with.

Right now though, he is just a boy and that is enough for John.

End


End file.
